


Yours

by BlossomofFireandRain



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Double Penetration, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, M/M, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:05:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2424731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomofFireandRain/pseuds/BlossomofFireandRain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not like the fact that he's bloodied and bruised <em>bothers</em> you......</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yours

At first when he comes back beaten up and bloody, you intend to just wait for him. Let KK go and fuss over him, you’ll wait till he’s clean and then poke at him. But the longer you wait, the more it digs under your skin. Someone mauled him up. Marked him. Gave him a spectacular black eye that wasn’t made with your fist. You don’t even know where else he might have been hurt, you only got the one view of him through the cameras before he was being sent off to debrief and then rest.

You get up and pace. Technically you’re not that far from him, you could totally just step over into the shared room and just “happen” to see him, it really wouldn’t be that hard. You’re thinking so hard you slip and almost fall on the hard, slick flooring you put in your room. Just staying here instead rushing off with the rest feels strangely awkward, and you chew on a thumb nail absentmindedly, not stopping until you feel the dull sense of pain seeping through your worries. 

It’s not even like you should be worried! You’re not red for him! That’s KK’s job! You pull his fucking pigtails and hide his scarf (when you’re paying attention to him), not coddle him! You grind your teeth at the thought of pitying him. Unbidden the ripped up side of his ridiculous shirt comes back into mind, and you find yourself pulling at your hair in sheer irritation.

That’s the crux of it, isn’t it. Someone else marked him up. The thought burns bitter in your mouth, and you really hope you find out whoever it is is already dead, because otherwise you’re going to blow a fuse trying to find them.

After that you can wait no longer. It’s barely a few steps worth to his block, a quick swipe of your (filched) key card, and you’re stepping into a room that is just way too purple. From the ablution block you can hear murmuring, and a few sputtered curses, and you take care to be silent as you slip in there with them.

The sight that greets you is really not pretty. Eridan’s facing the tub, while KK dabs at something on the side of his neck, but none of this blocks you from seeing the bruise that goes from the base of his neck down his back and into his pants. You don’t realize you’re growling until both of them still and look at you.

Eridan’s eyes are huge and stupidly purple against the frame of bruises, KK’s squinted and mildly suspicious, but most of this is lost on you as you step closer and place one finger along the edge of a bruise. 

"Anyone want to clue me in on what happened here? I thought this was supposed to be an in-and-out mission." You’re actually mildly impressed with yourself that that came out so evenly.

"Uh. They had a psionic?" ED sounds like he’s lost, but you continue tracing bruises, not even registering as KK smears the salve he’d been using on one of your hands. "And?"

"They threw me into a wwall? Are you oka-! Oww!" You move your thumb off a bruise and ask the next question before he can say anything else stupid. "And how the fuck did you get caught by a psionic no one knew they had?" 

"It’s not like I wwas wwatching for them, okay!? Wwhat the hell’s your problem!?"

This is a perfectly reasonable question, so of course the perfectly reasonable response is for you to sink your teeth into the one unmarked area of his shoulder. 

They’re back out again before he can get more than a muffled curse out, and you’re already stripping off his pants and dropping him into the waiting tub via psionics.

"Stupid-" One handful of shampoo to his head "-idiotic-" one hand holds a horn while the other scrubs "-seadwellers!" 

You’re not even sure why you’re so angry. So he’s covered in bruises and bite marks, so what? They’ll fade, you’ll make new ones, he’ll be fine. Regardlessly you scrub his hair extra hard like you washing it for him is the blackest action you’ve ever performed. Even when soapy hands pull you (clothed) into the tub with him and start stripping and tossing your now sopping clothing to the side you’re still calling him a list of names that all are synonyms for idiot. Only when he kisses you, soapy and cold and urgent, and tasting like you’ve done something horrible do you stop cursing and wrap yourself around him and drink him in. 

You don’t scratch at all. Not now. The darkest mark you can put on him now is the pitch fervor you kiss him with, holding his face like you’re going to brand his mouth with yours, like he might flinch from you if you don’t.

He doesn’t, even as you taste blood from the split in his lip. Somehow you’ve maneuvered your legs so they’re wrapped around his waist, and when his bulge rubs up against your nook you simply spread wider, urgent with the need to possess him. When a warm body presses against your back, bulge urgent against your ass, you rock back hard. 

The bulges twine below you, a mess of liquid and slick as they tangle against your nook, both trying to both get in you, and touch each other. When they do manage to straighten out enough to burrow in you groan deeply, the sting somehow welcome and needed after all this. 

Eridan kisses you like he’s desperate, and you gasp. Too much, all too much, KK behind you letting out tiny breaths and trills as he twists inside you, ED in front of you, bloody and cold, but yours, all yours, and with a sudden jerk you find yourself spilling way sooner than you would have ever expected. Perhaps they were hungry like you too, since the pulse of your nook seems to pull them with you, and you find yourself doublestuffed with fluid. 

For a second you all hang there, strung up on some strange peak where the only thing that matters is the closeness and warmth around you, before it all comes back and you’re sore, cold, and way more messy than when you first got in here. Something inside you purrs at the smears of yellow across ED’s stomach. Maybe he was bruised by someone else, but it’s your color he’s wearing now.

And you guess KK’s, but KK’s color is okay also.

When you’re all out of the tub and into dry clothes, KK demands pile time, and even though you bitch, it works. With KK a warm weight to your left, and ED a cool one on your right, even the bruises dotting his face seem to matter less.

"Soooo…….Any undying pitch vows to make? To finish this off?"

"Shut up, KK." You sweep a pillow from the side and dump it on his face - no tenderness for him, he’s a butt, even if he did stay quiet while you took over patching up ED.

"No, no, I wwanna hear this, come on, Sol. Don’t leavve me hangin’ after that wwonderful display ‘a’ pitch possessiveness." Wow, fuck this pitch fins. You spitefully _don’t_ drop a pillow on his face. Who’s the pitch king now, huh?

"Fuck this, I platonically hate both of you." 

When they start laughing though, you join in. It’s okay, it’s good. They’re yours.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at NuclearVampire.tumblr.com


End file.
